Slowly, Cinderella shook her head. Hunger sharpened in her gut, and her stomach growled before she could stop it.
“I knew it! Why don’t you come with me? I’ll make sure the cooks get you a nice bowl of soup. I think it’s onion soup today, and that’s one of my favorites.” Louisa paused, glancing at Cinderella’s dirty dress and the apron over it. “Maybe we can even find a job for you.”
“In the palace?”
“No, the tanneries. Of course, the palace!” Louisa giggled at Cinderella’s wide eyes, misreading her startled expression for one of awe. “It’s less grand when you’re the one cleaning it. But given the urgent search for the missing princess, no one in the palace is paying close attention to us servants. I’m sure I could convince Aunt Irmina to give you a few days’ work at the very least.”
Cinderella swallowed. The palace was where Prince Charles lived, but she wasn’t a fool. She knew that the chances of running into him would be slim. And yet . . . maybe—just maybe, if he saw her again, even dressed as a member of the palace staff, he might recognize her.
She shook the possibility away. What am I thinking, clinging to some silly fantasy about a silly prince I’ve only met once? She inhaled, trying to reason away her feelings for the prince. A job in the palace is more than I could have hoped for. It’s work that will pay, and it’s a life away from my stepmother. It’s the new start I’ve been waiting for.
“Well?” Louisa asked. “What do you say?”
Cinderella almost agreed, but then she remembered Bruno, who was staring morosely at the two girls. “What about Bruno?”
Louisa eyed the bloodhound nervously. “I can try to sneak him into the servants’ quarters, but we’ll have to keep him hidden. Aunt Irmina is not fond of animals.”
So it was settled, and Cinderella followed her new friend, Louisa, to the last place she’d thought she would see again.
The palace.
“Announcing the Crown Prince Charles Maximilian Alexander, son of King George-Louis Philippe III, noble prince and beloved heir to the throne of Aurelais—”
Charles usually would have waited for the royal crier to finish declaring his entrance, but this morning he barely even heard the man.
He stormed into the royal dining chamber. Inside, he found his father calmly breaking his fast with a plate of almond cakes, freshly baked pastries, and raspberry jam, and the Grand Duke reading aloud from a scroll.
“That is one hundred and twenty-three households, sire,” declared Ferdinand. “None of the maidens came close to fitting the slipper. At this rate, I suspect the search is futile and that the missing young lady will not be foun—” The duke lowered his scroll, noticing Charles. “Why, good morning, Your Highness.”
A flurry of servants trailed Charles. Any other day, he might have felt horrible about causing a ruckus with his unexpected appearance at breakfast. But not today.
King George brightened at the sight of his son. “Good morning, my boy. Sit down, sit down.”
“Good morning, Father,” replied the prince, managing an awkward bow. A servant hastily pulled out a chair for him, but he did not sit. Instead, he directed his gaze to the Grand Duke. “I thought I made it clear that I wished to be present for every report regarding the glass slipper.”
“It is half past seven, Your Highness,” replied the duke smoothly. “We waited as long as we could.”
As always, Ferdinand had an excuse for everything, but Charles detected an undertone of fatigue behind his usual unflappable charm. Dark circles hooded the Grand Duke’s eyes, and his uniform, typically pressed to perfection, was wrinkled at the hems. Evidently, he had not slept well.
Charles had not, either. In truth, he hadn’t slept at all.
How could he? The last thing he had wanted was for Ferdinand to find his intended bride. Charles had wanted to search for her himself. Unfortunately, his father had insisted on appointing the Grand Duke for the job.
Ferdinand is the most capable man in the kingdom. He will find her, he’d said.
Her.
Charles hated that he didn’t even know her name. Everyone was calling her “the mysterious maiden” or “the runaway princess” or simply “the girl with the glass slippers.”
To him, she’d been more. The girl who had captured his heart. His true love, perhaps. Until he saw her again, he couldn’t be sure.
“Did you find her?” he asked.
“I regret not, Your Highness.” Ferdinand blew his nose into his handkerchief and waved a hand at the servants to disperse.
Charles knew the gesture. These are matters of state, meant only for the sovereign’s ears.
Which meant there was bad news to come.
The duke straightened as the staff retreated outside. “I’ve searched everywhere. The maiden has vanished.”
It was as Charles had feared. “Continue your report, please.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.” Ferdinand returned to reading his scroll. “From dawn to dusk, one hundred and twenty-three households were searched yesterday in the first and second precincts of Valors. None were residence to the maiden with the glass slipper. I regret I must conclude my search—”
“After only one day?” interrupted Charles.
“Yes. I made a thorough inquiry of the first and second precincts—”
“There are nine precincts in Valors, and more than a hundred and twenty-three households.”
“There are only one hundred and twenty-three noble households.”
“I thought I’d made myself clear,” Charles said through his teeth. “Every house. Noble and common.”
The duke frowned. “B-b-but, Your Highness—if the girl’s a commoner—”
“Every eligible maiden was invited to attend, wasn’t she?” Charles said, quoting the invitation. “Then the girl could be anyone. A countess, a farmer, a scullery maid. Search everyone.”
“I am afraid that will be impossible,” said the duke. “There is a council meeting this morning regarding urgent matters of state. My presence is not to be missed. Sire, don’t you agree?”
“Hmm?” said the king, who was more focused on his plate of eggs than on the conversation at hand. “Ah. Yes. Urgent matters of state. Everyone’s been searched.”
He seems distracted this morning, Charles thought, observing his father. “No, I said to search everyone. If I could go myself to look for her—”
“That’s out of the question,” interrupted Ferdinand. “Your Highness, it would be neither appropriate, nor safe, for you to venture into Valors on such a quest—”
“I was addressing my father, not you.”
“Ferdinand’s right,” said the king, finally snapping to attention. “A prince does not go out on a manhunt, knocking on doors in search of runaway princesses!”
“It’s not a—”
“Besides, your aunt Genevieve arrived this morning and expects you to accompany her to lunch.”
The prince started. The name was one he hadn’t heard in years. “Aunt Genevieve is here?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”